


Five Times Rickon Kissed Shireen (and the first time she kissed him back.)

by Sookiestark



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: 5 Times, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, First Kiss, First Time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-07
Updated: 2017-02-20
Packaged: 2018-09-22 15:03:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9613013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sookiestark/pseuds/Sookiestark
Summary: This story is a little different than some Rickeen stories. I think it is about two people who have spent most of their lives without their families and in places they wouldn't consider their homes. I also wonder what type of Stark Rickon would become, like his father- honorable, steady, loyal or like his Uncle Brandon or Aunt Lyanna-- more impulsive, passionate and unthinking..  I think he may have been more of the latter, especially without his father's guidance or direction. I really do like this pairing a great deal and I am always glad to see them safe and happy at the end because I cried when both of them died.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story is a little different than some Rickeen stories. I think it is about two people who have spent most of their lives without their families and in places they wouldn't consider their homes. I also wonder what type of Stark Rickon would become, like his father- honorable, steady, loyal or like his Uncle Brandon or Aunt Lyanna-- more impulsive, passionate and unthinking.. I think he may have been more of the latter, especially without his father's guidance or direction. I really do like this pairing a great deal and I am always glad to see them safe and happy at the end because I cried when both of them died.

1.

The first time the heir of Winterfell kissed her was at the start of the Great War. At Castle Black, where the wall and the winter reigned over all the Night’s Watch. It had been a few uncertain and difficult months for Shireen Baratheon. Her father had gone off to fight the Boltons for Winterfell, never to come back.

She was sixteen and everything was sweet, even in the cold with so little to eat. Jon Snow was lovely. He would ask about her and make sure she had all she needed. He always made sure the kitchens cooked her some little sweets and that she had candles to read. He had caught her in the library and had told her to help herself to all the books she would like. “They don’t get much use up here. Not many Brothers can read.” 

Jon Snow smiled his smile and she had smiled back. It was that minute she knew she would gladly give her heart to the Lord Commander. He never flinched from her hand. He always looked in her face, as if there wasn’t her condition. Jon would laugh with her and give her small courtesies. She even could believe that he would seek her out sometimes as if she reminded him of one of his lost sisters. 

She knew she could never give her heart to a natural born son, an heir to nothing, no land, no name, just a cloak of black and a Valyrian sword. She was a princess, a princess and next true heir to the Iron Throne. Her honor, her maidenhead, her heart could not be so carelessly given to a man for a few smiles and some kind courtesies. Shireen understood that, but in the darkness of her room, while her mother cried herself to sleep, it was easy to dream about Lord Snow and throwing caution to the wind. 

Quickly, things changed. Word came that her father had been killed. Jon Snow was killed by his men. Her mother in her despair was found hanging in a tower abandoned. All hope was lost and her future was certain for the bright red flames of the Red Witch but then things changed again. Rickon and Ser Davos had returned. Jon Snow was revived from death and no longer Lord Commander. He had asked her to help teach Rickon his letters, numbers, history, and law, so he could be an able ruler of Winterfell when the time came. 

Jon came to her shortly after he returned from consolidating the North before he left to retake Winterfell. Shireen had been tutoring Rickon for several months. He found her in the library digging through dusty records of dragons. Her dragon dreams had returned since she had arrived at the wall. They were rising from the ashes, their flesh returning to them and they were looking for her to eat and destroy. She was hoping she could find something to read and calm her here. Maybe there was something in all this that she could puzzle out this meaning. 

“Excuse me, my lady.. I mean my grace..”

“No, my lord. I am not your grace. There has been no coronation. I am a princess with no army, a girl with no father, a claim with no might, a will with no hand to make it so.. A lady is all I am.” 

He looked at her, “Patience, my lady and you might figure it out yet. Perhaps, when I return from Winterfell, you might take your troops south. I am in your debt for what help you have given me.”

His grey eyes dark in the candlelight burning, “Not only with what men you have left but the good counsel of Ser Davos. He is truly a fine knight and he is fierce in his devotion of you.”

“Too bad, I was not born a man and I could rally these men and more behind me. I could ride out with you to retake Winterfell. I would not have to rely on your kindness to protect me from wicked men who might seek my hand and bed to make a claim for the Iron Throne, even with my face and my deformity.” She laughed but it was a bitter sound. 

Jon looked at her and walked around the table. He kneeled before like a knight in her childhood stories. They were eye level and he looked at her direct with her hand in his hand. His breath was soft and warm and sweet. She could feel him so close. He was closer to her than anyone dared get to her, closer than anyone but her family. Even in his black leather gloves, his hand were warm and wanting.

“My lady, you have brought me what so many could not. You have given me my brother back, as a true son of House Stark and not some wild creature that has been pulled from the wild. You have taught him manners, letters, numbers, and the law. You give him peace and pause. I am always grateful and in your debt.” 

She thought to herself that this could be her moment. To throw herself at him. To kiss his sweet lips. She was 16 and a woman, old enough to be wedded and bedded. She willed herself to do it, to take this leap of faith. She knew that there was only tragedy around every path she led herself. She needed his strength and protection. In that instant, she saw herself lean into him. Half-lidded eyes and rich provocative glow that candlelight-colored skin. She imagined herself licking absently half-opened lips, red like fruit, And she saw him curl away from her in revulsion from the grey scale and shame that she would believe he had wanted her.

She dropped her eyes to her lap and hoped he hadn’t seen the wanton flush of her face or her pause.  
He took her hand and pressed it to his lips. She could feel the rough delicious scratch of his beard. “Thank you.” 

He stood up and was gone. 

Later, she heard a knock and a scrape and four feet with sharp claws tapping as they hit the wood and stone beneath. “Rickon, what are you doing out of bed so late? It is cold and you don’t want to catch a chill.”

“It isn’t cold for a Northerner.” 

She laughed and looked up from the pages of the book at the boy. His skin was clean and he had a fur wrapped around him for warm and wool beneath. His face was round and soft like a child and he had red-brown curls like a crown around his head. His hair was clean but long, perhaps too long and if not for the way he dressed and his manners, his hair looked like a girls.

“It is cold and too late for me. I will be heading to bed. Will you walk with me, my lord?”

“Oh yes. I have been waiting for you.”

“Waiting.?.. Rickon, have you been spying on me?”

“Not spying, Princess. Protecting like knights do. The Wall is a dangerous place for a princess and I watch to defend your honor and protect you from danger.”

“Rickon, that is sweet, but I fear we might have read too many stories of Aemon the Dragon Knight. You are just a child and have nothing to worry about. Do not..”

“I am young but I promise to protect you. I see how you look when you think you are alone. You are sad and scared. I know what it was like to be alone without a mother or father. Before I was brought back to Jon, it was me, Shaggy Dog and Osha. I knew fear. You are like I was. You have a family but they are far away, lost to you right now. Your father has been killed by wicked men. Your mother is dead. Ser Davos is here and will not leave you, but you wonder sometimes how much will he suffer through before he might leave. I understand. We are the same.”

She wondered if he had seen Jon kiss her hand in gratitude and she flushed with shame that someone else might have seen her…

“Rickon, it is not polite for people to spy..”

“My lady, I want you to know you will not always feel so alone. I will be your family and you will be my lady wife, never be alone again. We shall live at Winterfell and have so many children. None of them will ever feel lonely or afraid,”

They were standing at her door. “Thank you, my lord, for seeing me safely to my chambers. It is a lovely idea but you are but a child and I already have grown..”

He was quick and in one sudden sure movement on his tiptoes, Rickon Stark leaned in and kissed Shireen on her clear faced cheek. 

“A kiss, my lady to seal my vow. You shall be my wife,”  
A strong and contagious smile, a blur of black wolf fur, and the click-clack of boy feet, he was gone.


	2. Chapter 2

The second time the heir to Winterfell kissed her was several years later during the Great War. There had been so many wars that Shireen wondered if there would ever be peace in her lifetime. She dreamed of the end of the War and then spring might break with days full of sun, instead of the hunger, the cold, and the wounded. She would like to see the green of the grass and the trees and feel the soft rain of spring. Maybe someday this would happen after the Others were wiped off Westeros and sent back to wherever such things would go.

Shireen had bent the knee to the Dragon Queen in the Great Hall of Winterfell. The Dragon Queen had landed with dragons and Unsullied, Ironborn, and Sand Snakes, even the Imp of Lannister had come with her. Daenerys Stormborn had come with fire and blood. Though she was small, Shireen could sense the hardness in her and thought this woman reminded her of her father.  
The Queen demanded she renounce her claims to the Iron Throne, swear her allegiance to the Targaryens, and her father and his brothers as traitors to the crown. Jon had come to her and spoke in whispers, which she had realized was how he spoke, unless he was with his men. She recognized this as being raised a bastard, he had learned to whisper and cause no scene, no attention to himself. She understood this because he spoke how she held herself, head slightly bowed, her hair down, always trying to be inconsequential, knowing, like Jon, she made people uncomfortable by just being alive. “The Queen states if you swear to her allegiance that she will have mercy. She is willing to negotiate. She wants peace and prosperity. We could use a peace.”

“Yes your grace.”

“Shireen, please if there was a way, I would get you to Storm’s End, but you will have to kneel one day.”

“Yes, your grace. You don’t have to explain. I have an understanding of what must be done for the people. Will I be able to go to Storm’s End? Will she allow my men safe passage back if I swear allegiance? What of Ser Davos?”

Jon nodded. “All will be safe.”  
She nodded and pulled her cloak around her tighter as she stood. “I will do what the Queen asks. Don’t despair Jon. This is how things must be.” 

She touched his head and his curls were as soft as she thought they would be.

“Go to the Queen and tell her that House Baratheon stands with House Targaryen.” 

She had renounced her claim to the Iron Throne, which had felt like relief. She had sworn allegiance to the Targaryens. It was more difficult saying that her father was a Usurper, as was Robert and Renly. She never did care for her Uncle Robert but Renly, who had only been kind to her and brought her toys as a child and would swing her high and hug her close. Was he a traitor? While she spoke the words, she imagined her father’s hard glare at how easily she bent the knee and swore him false. Maybe she was craven, compared to father who resolved to eat rats and make Renly swallow boiled leather soup when the child was so weak he barely could lift his head during the siege. Perhaps, if she had born a boy, some Baratheon Fury would have inspired her to fight and rail against the tiny silver-haired queen. 

After she spoke the words on bended knees before the Dragon Queen, Daenerys had stepped off the wooden dais and come to her. She had taken her hand and helped Shireen stand. 

“Shireen Baratheon, we are cousins, family.” She held her face in her two hands, touching her scar with her small white hand. Daenerys didn’t flinch. “Let there never be discord between us again.”

She was lifted up as a handmaiden to Queen, a lady-in-waiting, part of an odd collection of discarded and broken people, former slaves, dwarfs, eunuchs, women, dispossessed people. But the Queen never was cruel to her. In fact, she loved her in her way that Shireen had not been loved even by her own parents. There was a story of a man, close to the queen, who had been left in Essos, burned on the shores because he had been afflicted by greyscale. The queen often would question her about how Maester Cressen had healed her, and Shireen knew the Queen dreamed of a time when the Wars would end and she would admonish the Oldtown Maesters to find a cure for this illness. The Queen would do this for this tragic knight and for girls like her… lost and ruined Lady Shireen. 

The Queen enjoyed all the stories Shireen knew and when it was late and just her and Missandei in her rooms, she would have Shireen tell them stories of Westeros of Old. They would all fall asleep in the Queen’s bed. The first time it happened Shireen apologized. “There is no need for apologies, cousin. Those who I love are welcome to sleep with me.” 

The Queen had allowed her to keep Storm’s End and the Stormlands because the Queen was gracious.She wondered more and more what it would have been to be born a boy, and perhaps instead of Daenerys marrying Jon, they could have been married. She would have liked to know what her Queen’s lips felt like, how she would taste. 

The night before the great war, the final battle, Shireen was visited by Rickon. They still met daily when they could. She would watch his numbers, have him recite laws and the rights and responsibilities of kings, do sums, as they had done for years. He had grown taller, much taller than she was and he had learned all that she could teach him. Jon had taken him more and more. Brienne and the Unsullied would train him in the yard. She knew he would stop coming soon and it made her feel a loss, a regret. 

He had come to her in the day. He had a fistful of winter roses grown in the glass house. “I brought these for you and I would like to have a token to take to the battle tomorrow.”

“My lord, I have heard the King is concerned for your safety and has forbid you to leave the castle.”

“I am a man. Do you think I cannot fight?” 

“I have seen you. You are able to fight, but Rickon, your brother loves you and is afraid. If he loses you, there will be no heir to Winterfell and he will be heartbroken. He had three brothers, one murdered, one lost still, and you. Think of what promises he made to your father to keep you safe. Surely, you would not have him break those promises.” 

“Shireen, I am a man and a brother of the King. It is my people, my keep, my land that I ride out to fight for. I would ask you for a token.” 

“A token?”

“A token so when I ride to fight, I will fight with you, near me.”

She found a handkerchief that she had embroidered with Sansa after she had returned to Winterfell. It had a stag with rough stitches. She was not as good with her stitches as Sansa. 

“I will give this to you, but only if you promise to follow Jon. Stay close to him. Do not do anything that would lead to folly.” 

“Will you kiss me when I return victorious?

“Rickon, you are so much younger than me.. Thirteen, and I am six years older. Think of what the Court would say.” 

“I am a man, What must I do for you to see that?”

He left, with a slamming door.

That morning in the early light, she woke with a start. The dream as it had a hundred times before, Stannis and Selyse allowing her to be tied to the pyre, The Red Witch lighting the flames and calling for the Lord of Light to bring victory with this sacrifice. She screamed to her father as the flames burned her feet and the black smoke burned her throat and eyes. No one moved. No one helped her. Then she saw Rickon’s body on the frozen ground with an arrow through his chest. Shaggydog’s severed head on the ground. Jon picking him up off the ground, limp and without life

It was dawn in the east, just breaking sending rays of pink purple shooting across the snow, like the sky bleeding morning on the world. Without thinking of decorum or shoes on her feet, Shireen wrapped her cloak around her and ran into the queen's chamber. “My queen, I dreamed of Rickon Stark, he was dead.” 

Jon pulled himself from the bed, “What? Where?”

She told her dream, trying not to blush and to avert her eyes from his nakedness. He dressed and called the men left to guard the castle. Rickon had left early with a group of Wildlings and hot-blooded nobles. They call themselves the Wild Bastards. They had left early to be at the heart of the fighting. The King cursed and rode off on Rhaegel. The Queen followed. 

Shireen spent the day watching from the window. The darkness and the snow blinded everything but a few feet in front of her face. She wondered what was out there, what horrors, what doom.

Sansa would shut the window, every so often, pull her to a chair. “We must keep busy. Help make bandages, Shireen. We are all worried. Freezing to death won’t change anything. “

That night was so long. Hours passed and then dawn broke from the West. 

Sansa had fallen asleep. Shireen woke to Missandei. “Look, the sun is rising from the West.”

Over the next day, troops straggled in. Wounded, Dead. Pyres were built outside the castle and the dead burned night and day. On the 2nd day, Jon began to seriously worry that Rickon was dead. He offered a bag of gold to anyone who could bring him his brother’s body, alive or dead. Someone brought Shaggydog’s severed head and Rickon Stark was still lost. No word, no body.  
Jon left the Great Hall when Shaggy’s head was returned and the Queen followed him. Sansa was immovable; her face stone. She continued to feed the hungry, wash the wounded, tend to Winterfell.  
In the night, she heard the sentry call out “Lord Stark.” She rushed into the yard. Rickon was there with the remnants of the Wild Bastards. He had painted blue streaks on his face before the battle to make him look fierce. With the blue paint, blood dried and fresh, soot, and dirt all over, it was hard to know what his injuries were. His one eye was swollen shut, his right foot looked hurt, part of his left ear cut clean off, and several cuts deep, one that went through his side. They had pressed a fur against it and had carried him in a blanket because he couldn’t walk.  
At first, she thought the worst and thought he was moaning. But he was singing with his brothers at arms, laughing. Someone had given him a wineskin and he was slightly drunk, like the rest of them. Singing songs, like this was a feast day and not a terrible battle, that he had been lost for almost three days, that she had not rested with worry for him. She heard the shout for the King and Lady Sansa. Running to him, she started to look at him.

“Please brothers, put me down. I must talk to this lady.” 

He stumbled but got himself upright, though he could not raise himself straight with his injuries. Rickon was balancing himself awkwardly with the use of one eye and one good foot and the wine had not helped his ability to stand or the amount of blood he was losing.. 

“Rickon, please, sit down. Lay back. You have been injured. We must get you to bed.”

“Aye, brothers, she wants me in bed!”

They laughed and cheered him on. Normally, comments like this would rile her. She touched his face and held him up. She was looking to see if she could lessen the swelling in his eye, praying there was no permanent injury.

“I am a man, Shireen. Believe me. Today I killed so many monsters so that the North can be safe for my people, for my lady. My beautiful lady.”

“Shh.. enough talk. Please lie back so we can get you to your room.” 

He used his right hand to take another drink from the wineskin. “My brothers, I will need some food. I think the lady has plans for me this night and I will need food to keep up my strength. You must go easy, Shireen, I think I only have the strength for three times tonight.” 

At this point, she felt Jon near her, holding Rickon on his right arm. Rickon”s right arm was wrapped around Shireen’s back. She was still touching his face, but what had started as a critical appraisal of injury and the extent of repair had become something more. He looked at her, bright blue eye staring back into her deep dark blue eyes. His voice grew quiet, huskier, no more boy jests and bawdy jokes for the yard. It was a whisper for her. “I might be thirteen but I am a man today. I have gone to war and fought nightmares so that I could come back to you." He touched her chin and lifted it up, tilting it. "So that our children will be safe. Never doubt me. I am a man. Yours, if you will have me.” 

He kissed her slow and sweet, awkward and full of heat. His tongue pushed past her lips and in the moment she opened for him. He growled in her mouth like he was hungry, and she felt her stomach twist in an uncomfortable way, but she wanted it to continue to ache. She felt her hand curl from his face to the back of his head. 

He pulled away and she realized what it must look like, her a grown woman and this wounded boy. She touched her lips reflexively and felt her skin burn with the shame. Jon was hugging his brother and smiling widely. Rickon was radiant, glowing in the victory and his brother's pride.

She heard Rickon whisper to his brother, “Would Father be proud?’

“Oh yes, after he had you beat for leaving against his wishes.”


	3. Chapter 3

The third time the heir to Winterfell kissed her was after the tourney to celebrate the birth of the prince. Summerhall was being rebuilt and the court was in Duskendale. 

With the summer, families had come back to court to see the beautiful Targaryens and their happiness, a small silver haired bundle with grey eyes. Bran Stark had returned to Winterfell, a moody man given to mystical mutterings and sadness, but Rickon Stark remained at court. The queen was very much in love with her husband and the King, newly discovered to be a Targaryen Heir, had eyes only for his wife. The court was filled with smiles and flowers. Couples rushed the Septs to be married and babies were coming like fruits on the trees.

Her Grace wanted everyone to share in the joy and would often point out eligible men to Shireen. Men of good standing in the hopes that Shireen would fall in love. 

At the tourney feast, she sat on one side Tyrion Lannister, on the other the young heir to Velaryon. Hugh Velaryon reminded her of a knight from one of her children’s stories. He was golden-haired and violet eyes, a throwback to his Targaryen roots. He was nicely dressed, clean-shaven, and his hands were clean. He laughed at her jokes and offered her the first choice of all the platters placed before them. Tyrion, as always, poured the wine and pushed the food on his plate. She noticed that he was more distracted, though he seemed merry, he kept looking down the table at the left side of the King. To Jon’s left, was Rickon who was seated next to one of Bracken’s many daughters, Alysanne Bracken. Sansa sat next to Lady Bracken and next to her was Willas Tyrell, who recently was widowed when his young bride was in childbirth. 

Sansa seemed to be enjoying Willas Tyrell's company but it was Rickon and Alysaane that were flirting shamelessly. Rumors had said that Lord Stark had recently become lovers with the Bracken girl, though he was not the first in court to have known the lady’s attention. Shireen wished she could be more indignant but she found herself wistful every time she saw them. Alysanne had warm brown curls and dark eyes that twinkled and next to Rickon, they made a lovely pair. Alysanne could laugh and touch his face without blushing. She would giggle and flirt like she was born to it and was not self-conscious at all. In fact, Shireen believed Alysanne Bracken loved it when men looked at her.

Hugh Velayron rose to leave and bid them good night. “Tomorrow is the tourney and I will need my rest if I hope to do well in the lists.”  
As he left he leaned into Shireen’s ear, touching her hand, “My lady… I would like to see some more of you. Perhaps, just the two of us ..so we could talk.”  
He squeezed her hand at the last part. 

Shireen looked down the table and Rickon was feeding berries to Alysanne and she was licking his fingers, playfully and wide-eyed. “That would be very nice and I would like that very much.”

Tyrion looked down the table, hearing Sansa's laugh barely over Lord Stark's flirting, and then looked at Shireen. “Come Lady Baratheon, we need more wine. Did I ever tell you a joke ..” 

“I am sorry, my Lord Hand, I am not in the mood for jokes.” 

“Our queen looks to marry you to a lord and get you full of happiness and babies. She wants you to be happy and drinking wine with the Imp is not the road to happiness.”

“Perhaps, she looks to do the same with you, my lord.” 

“Our Queen collects broken things. If she fixed me, I would be no good as her Hand.”

They laughed and drank for a while. The hour grew late and the knights from a lower table got loud. It was like a warning signal, their looks, their voices. The King and Queen had retired. “I must get to bed, Lord Tyrion.”

She heard them as she was leaving the hall. “A face like that would make your cock shrivel up..”

“You don’t need to fuck her face, Flip her over and remember she is the Lady of Storm’s End.” 

“As long as she doesn’t have scales on her cunt.”

She willed herself to not flinch.  
Tyrion called out to her, “Lady Shireen, allow me the pleasure of walking with you.”  
He took her arm lightly. Shireen absently touched her hair. She longed to touch her face but wouldn’t dare, not until she was in her rooms, alone. Tyrion continued talking like he had not heard the men, “Lovely weather we are having, not too hot. Just right for a tourney.”

“Yes, it was a lovely day. Who knew that we would ever have days as fair as these again?”

“Yes indeed. A good day to drink and have pleasant conversations with lovely ladies.” 

They were in a corridor, less populated. Flowers were growing everywhere. The queen loved flowers. She stopped. She feared her throat was closing, the sharp swallow of pain as she tried to focus on anything to stop the tears before they fell. 

“Surely, my lady, you know better than to listen to the drunken pricks who call themselves noble.” Tyrion spoke as he guided her to the bench. 

“Yes my lord Hand, I never listen to anything you say it is pure pompous drivel.” She tried to sound cheery but it sounded strangled.

“Oh yes, you must never listen to me. A man in his cups is worse than a man filled with books and I am both.” He chuckled, always amused with himself, always in good humor. 

She sat on a bench, surrounded by lilies, orange, red, white. He sat next to her and handed her his handkerchief. It had fine gold stitches with a Lion and a Hand. She dabbed her eyes and hoped to not cry too much and ruin the beautiful cloth. She wondered who had made it for him. He had a rich voice and smelled like wine, and lavender. “Really, you shouldn’t listen to them. They are jealous. The Queen and King love you and you are precious to them. They would like to see you cast down and the only way they can hurt you is words.” 

“It is true. My Lord Hand, did you know that my father never let me play with other children because he was afraid I would be teased, and in turn, he would be insulted? I did not have many friends as a child. Maybe if I had, words would not hurt so…” 

“My lady, I fear that our fathers were very much alike. Tywin Lannister would have loved to keep me on the Rock, or even better underground.” 

She laughed. “My Lord, you always make me laugh. I forget that you and I are not so different. You are so confident and assured. I am sure their words never hurt you but I am a lady. I have no occupation, except to be a good wife and since I am no one’s wife, I am useless.”

“I do not think that is true. Someone will love you.” 

“I am not beautiful. I do not expect someone to love me. But you can have a marriage without love.”  
“I understand what you say more than you know. I disagree with you and I hate to because you are the only Baratheon that I have ever liked, but I know a young man who would love to be here with you on this bench.”

She looked into his mismatched eyes quizzically and then the realization hit her.  
“Lord Stark only requires a dress and questionable morals to make him happy. One of those things I lack.” 

“True.. But he is young and likes attention. It is an intoxicating thing, the company of ladies. It has made many men do irrational and hurtful things. Maybe he needs to know you want his attention.”

“I am older than him, six years.”

“Among nobles, that is not so great a space. If both are amiable to the match…”

She looked at him. Was he still talking about her and Rickon? “Thank you for your counsel. Here is the handkerchief. It is too fine for you to lose.” 

That night, as she prepared for bed. There was a knock on her door. Rickon was there,

“My lady, if I might have a word.. “

“Of course, Rickon.” She ushered him in past the guard. 

“What can I help you with. It is late and it is not proper for you to be here with no chaperone.” 

“Of course, I will hurry. I would do nothing to dishonor you. I have missed our lessons, especially the time we had together.”

“Do you? It looks like you have plenty people to keep your company and keep you occupied.”

He chuckled. “Perhaps, you might be jealous. Would you like to keep my company and occupy me?”

He licked his lips and continued. “I miss you. I miss you and I at the Wall and Winterfell and all the hours we spent talking. I miss your voice reading to me. I miss bringing you sweets or making snow castles. I miss Shaggy. Could you stop hating me so we could be friends again.”

“Rickon I don’t hate you. You are bedding every willing woman at Court. First, a Bracken, a Gardener, a Blackwood, all the serving girls. I’m not stupid. I might be an ancient maid but I am not stupid.”

“Jon would like me to be betrothed to this stupid Bracken girl.” 

“She seems pretty, young, full of joy. She comes from a noble house. It would be a good match.”

“Shireen, you are one of the smartest people I know. All you do is read and listen, do you think I want her? Say you will marry me and I will go and wake the King to tell him.” 

She looks at him, appraising the situation thoughtfully. Shireen takes a step closer to him, hesitant. “If I say yes, you will go wake the King and tell him. Are you mad? The king is sleeping. It is not proper.” 

He crosses the space between them in two quick steps. “If you say, you will marry me I will ring the bells in the Sept, light the fires on the towers, and wake the King to tell him his favorite brother is marrying his lady love.”

His arms are around her waist, strong and sturdy. He smells of wine, leather, horse, and steel. It reminds her of father, and all the dark nights during the War. It smells of men and desire. She leans into his chest, her scar away from his eyes. She closes her eyes and tries to think. He kisses the top of her head. I love your hair he mumbles into her.  
She laughs. 

“Look at me,” he speaks softly. It is not his way. He has a big voice and he commands attention.  
She looks at him hesitantly. “You are so beautiful to me. Please say yes.” 

Inhaling deeply, she looks into his eyes and says “yes.” HIs eyes get wide with surprise and then he laughs and swings her around the room. Out of breath and full of laughter, he stops and looks at her. She doesn’t think she has ever been looked at so closely. He touches her face and he outlines her lips with his fingertips. 

He is still slightly out of breath when his lips touch her. She can hear his breath. She is unsure what to do and does not want to disappoint. Her heartbeat is loud and the heat from his kiss seems too hot. He licks her lips and she opens them to give him access. The way his tongue moves in her makes an ache that burns and twists in her stomach. It is so wanton, the way her tongue responds that she hears the moan escape her throat before she can stop it. 

Rickon pushes her against the post of her bed. His leg is pressed against her and the pressure is making an ache that is making her breathless. He kisses her lightly her lips, her neck, her face. He is kissing and biting her neck and he is rubbing her back, her sides, her chest. She is breathless and sways, “Please stop Rickon, before I cannot find words. I fear..”  
He pulls from her so he can see her flushed face and chuckles. “My lady, your noises are so sweet to me. You are sweet to me.”

“I must away to my brother. To tell him of our plans.”

And he is gone with a slam of the door, yelling down the hallway and waking the entire castle.


	4. Chapter 4

The fourth time the heir of Winterfell kissed her was the next day. She woke in the morning and she could feel the cool breeze from off the sea. It was strange and sudden to think she would be Lady Stark. Perhaps, she had decided to hastily and not given herself some time to think on it. She lay in her bed and thought about what it would be like to be a wife and a mother. She giggled in her hands. It all seemed too much, an unrealness had settled over her. 

Her maid came to tell her that she was invited to breakfast with the royal family. Shireen picked a pretty blue dress that made her eyes stand out. “You look lovely today, my lady,” the maid spoke as she put small blue flowers in her hair. 

“Pretty, if not for this,” she touched her ruined cheek, as she spoke.  
“You are lovely to me my lady,” the maid answered. 

She frowned at the knock on her door. Rickon, with his bright eyes and his easy smile, is in the doorway. “My lady, I would like to escort you to breakfast.” He leans in as she takes his hand and kisses her, “Did you dream of me?”

She smiles and likes this playfulness, this secret sharing that the two of them have. He is tall and well built. He is honest and brave, loyal to his King and the North. Her father would have liked that about her future husband, but he wouldn’t have understood the jokes, the laughter, the joy that Rickon demands from life. He would have seen it as reckless, as youth. It doesn’t matter what Father thinks. She tries to put the worry out of her mind and lets the dead lie still. 

She enters the Queen’s Solar. The small table is framed with the people she has called family for the last five years. Jon is the first to stand upon their entrance. He hugs her, “Welcome sister.”  
He hugs Rickon and teases him. The King is easy with embraces, kisses, and touch among his family, as all the Starks are. She has noticed the Queen thrives under his touch but in the beginning, it was hard for her to be touched, so often and so lovingly. Shireen knows she is just as uncomfortable with it, as Daenerys was.  
Sansa remains seated. She is holding the Prince, trying to feed him small pieces of egg and fruit. She sets the spoon down, as Rickon still holding Shireen’s hand guides her over. “Sister,” he says, as he kisses both her cheeks. She looks at him like she is going to wipe his cheek or criticize him, but thinks better of it and holds her tongue. “Good morning Little Brother.” 

“Not so little.. He is going to be married.” Jon laughs and Sansa laughs. Sansa takes Shireen’s hand and pulls her in to hug her, as they laugh. There is a look between oldest brother and sister that they have succeeded at a task they were burdened with, to see Rickon married and settled at Winterfell, to see him survive his minority, that they are almost unburdened with their promises to dead fathers and mothers. Soon, there will be an heir to Winterfell. Shireen prays quickly to make her fertile and easy. A noble lady is only as good as her womb. Shireen kisses the Prince Aemon, as he smiles sweetly at her. 

Daenerys raises her arms for Shireen and Rickon. The Queen is having trouble standing. She is ready to give birth again and it will happen soon. The Queen is certain it is a princess and has started calling the baby Rhaella. As Shireen hugs her Queen, Daenerys whispers, “My blessings on both of you.”

He walks with her back to her room. She lets him in. He is heading back to Winterfell and she will go to him in 6 months to be married. The King wants him to take his responsibility and Court is too distracting. “May I come in? I only have an hour or two before we depart.”

“I don’t know ..” Her bedroom door open, her desk, overflowing with books, the chairs and table on the balcony, and the big canopied bed in the back.  
He took her hand and kissed it.  
We are going to be married. I would never do anything to hurt you, Shireen. I am not going to see you for so long. I want to spend some time with you alone.” He smiles.

She lets him in. They are sitting on the balcony, watching the sun and the sea, laughing and joking. Talking about their future. Winterfell seems so far away from this hot day, drinking summer wine. 

They are laughing and her hand reaches up to touch his face. He leans in and kisses her so softly. He tastes of wine and strawberries. She feels that she has drunk too much, She stands and says awkwardly, My Lord, I think I may have to lay down. He stands up. “Let me help you.” He takes her face in his palm and kisses her slowly. It is dizzying how his kisses make her body feel.She is all aches and heat and yearning. He bends down and his hands slip to her lower back and he pulls her closer. The desire is like a fire under her skin, from her lips to her stomach, to her privates, where it spreads and aches. 

In a flourish of his strength, he lifts her up into his arms and carries her to the bed. She protests that he will hurt himself. He silences her with a kiss. When he lays her down on her bed, he climbs on her bed as well. He is above her kissing her. She looks to the door and knows her maidenhead is in danger. She wills herself to tell him to stop, but she can’t find the words. This feels right.

“Tell me how many children do you want Shireen?” He looks at her playfully as he noses her neck, lightly kissing her jaw.

“I do not know. However many the gods bless us with..”

“It does not matter to you, then I shall keep you pregnant as long as I can.”

She giggles. He is untying her dress as he kisses her neck, licking ever so softly at her throat. 

“Maybe six or seven.. “

That is better. Tell me….What shall we name our first son, my lady.

He is touching her nipples through the fabric of her dress, kissing her collarbones.

Eddard she says. Without hesitation, she thinks he will be pleased

He stops and looks into her eyes, his big blue eyes sad. “No, Not our first boy. There should only ever be one Eddard Stark to rule Winterfell, and he now lies in the crypts. Not Eddard.” 

His voice echoes pain. She takes his face in both her hands and brings it to her face. “Kiss me,” she says.  
He kisses her hard, his tongue pushing past her lips, like an invasion. It creates a heat, that makes the blood rush to her skin. He groans in the back of her throat and the sound draws her body to his. She finds herself pushing up against him, his hardness makes her wanton. He is licking her lips. He tastes like sugar and wine and his fingers lightly touch her nipples. He pulls from their kiss. “We could name the boy after your father.”

“Stannis. Gods, no, the Northerners would have no love for the boy if he was named Stannis.” 

“Hmmmmm.” He is licking his way down her throat to the tops of her breasts. Somehow, he has gotten her dress untied in the kissing and her breasts are exposed to the air. The pale pink nipples are hard and tight and his eyes burn holes into her. “Your body is so beautiful. Maybe I will have to get the Septon today. Demand he wed us so that I can take my wife with me to Winterfell. I don’t think I can wait for you for 6 months.” 

When he reaches her nipple, he puts his tongue over it and licks it gently, then sucks it roughly. It is pure sensation, raw and splendid. She moans and clutches his head. He looks at her. “Our son needs a name Shireen. Focus. What shall we name him?”

“We could name him Jon.” 

He laughs, “My good, clever wife, I love it. Jon Stark. A good name for a good boy. I can’t wait to meet him.” He is on top of her, one leg between hers. It is creating a forbidden friction, and she finds herself rubbing softly against his thigh. He holds her close and looks into her eyes kissing her softly. Again he is sucking her nipples, unbuttoning the shift, pushing it down her arms, her stomach. She hears it dimly fall off the bed in a rush of silk and air.

“Rickon, what if we have a girl?”

“Her name? Hmmm. We could call her Shiera or Sansa.. 

"We could call her Tansa or Mara.."

"Anything you want my love. And I will take all our children and teach them to ride and shoot and the sword."

"Even the girls?"

"Of course. All our children will know how to ride and defend Winterfell, defend themselves and their family. Little warriors, all of them.." 

She was down to her small clothes. Naked, her mouth swollen with his kisses, Her neck, and breasts, red with the imprint of his mouth and teeth, her sex wet, aching, swollen.She looked nothing like a high born lady, but a common whore. Immediately, she felt shame. Shireen put her arms up to cover herself.  
“Please,” he said as he touched her arms. “I want to see you naked,” he said, hoarsely.  
“We mustn't Rickon.”  
“Let me kiss you.”  
She nodded and he kissed her. It was an eager, hungry kiss, full of wickedness and wonder. It left her gasping for air. She moved her arms, away from her body to his back, and watched his eyes go dark, as he looked at her with raw desire. It felt powerful and it stirred something deep within her.  
“I want to see you naked before I go,” Rickon whispered in her ear.  
No one had ever seen her naked. No one had ever asked. She felt herself get wetter as he growled into her hair. He arched his back so his cock, still contained in his pants, could rub her through the cloth. Shireen caught the sound she made in her throat and nodded her head as he traced the outline of the material.  
“Speak it.” He said, “Ask me to take them off, so you can show me all of you.”  
She bites her lip. She knows that she should say no. She nods.  
“You must say the words, my lady.” Rickon is using his fingers to touch the nub at the center of her legs, The friction is too much, the ache is unbearable, Shireen is sure she will explode from the heat or die of shame.  
“Take them off Rickon.” She speaks the words softly  
“Why, my lady?” Teasing, he kisses her. His eyes are all black and his fingers touch underneath the cloth, grazing soft wet curls.  
She bites her lip and closes her eyes. “Take them off Rickon because I want you to see all of me.“  
Rickon smiles wickedly and pushes them past her legs.  
His fingers push open her thighs. Though Shireen thinks she might die of embarrassment, he pushes his fingers into her heat and wetness and makes a sound of contentment. Her hips buck up against him and he chuckles.  
His laugh brings her back from the madness. “We can’t before the wedding.”  
“I won’t take your maidenhead, my lady. But I want to give you something to remember me on all those long nights between here and there. May I?”  
“I don’t understand..”  
“Let me show you, my lady.” He looks at her, smiling and he puts his head between her thighs. His tongue and fingers move her and she pushes against his face five or six times, shameless, begging, twisting his hair, legs splayed wide open like she is a whore. She comes with a cry, legs shaking, face flushed, delirious. He wipes his face with a bed linen and kisses her gently.  
Rickon whispers in her ear, “That, my lady, is the sweetest sound I have ever heard.”  
He pulls at himself in the blanket. It takes her a few moments to understand what he must be doing. She reaches out to touch him. When she takes the length in her hand, he cries out in one stroke and spills in the crumpled linen. Exhausted, he lays down on next to her, pulling her toward him. 

He kisses her gently on the crown of her dark hair, “Thank you, Shireen. That should help keep me warm at Winterfell.”


	5. Chapter 5

The fifth time the heir of Winterfell kissed her was when she went to Winterfell to be wedded. It was supposed to be a short six months. Two months after Rickon left Court, the Queen delivered her Princess. Three months after the Princess was born, the Seven Kingdoms were hit by a sickness. Many died, including the young Princess. The Queen broken hearted fell ill. The King sent the Prince and his sister out of the city. Shireen stayed and took care of Daenerys. 

They had postponed the wedding another six months. She had written a cautious letter to Winterfell and received a breezy love letter, full of declarations of her beauty and his faithfulness. She had legitimized her cousin Edric Storm who looked so much like her Uncle Renly, that it broke her heart to rule Storm’s End. Though the Queen did not like the idea of the Usurper’s Bastard sitting in Storm’s End, she loved Shireen more and wanted her happiness. “We must get you to Winterfell quickly, so you can start your family.” The Queen said to her a few weeks ago..

They rode in relative silence. Sansa was the one to notice Winterfell. “Look Shireen, Winterfell’s towers. Look Aemon. Winterfell. Home”

Shireen looked out the window and saw her future home. She was riding in to be Lady Stark, mother, and wife. Finally, a home and a husband. She smoothed out her dress and ran her fingers through her hair. Progress has been hard and she would be glad to finish the journey. If she never left Winterfell, she didn’t think she would mind at all. 

She closed her eyes and thought of the last time Rickon had kissed her. Their wedding would be on the morrow. She felt some shame at allowing him so much of her honor, but at least was certain that tomorrow they would be wed.

They rode into the yard. “Patience,”Sansa said. Shireen pushed the hair down that had gotten free from her braid and gently woke the Prince. Drogon roared in the distance as if he could hear the horses ride up to Winterfell. Perhaps, he sensed the Prince. The toddler woke fully at the noise and looked at the window to see if he could find his mother or father. “Daddy is here,” Sansa cooed at him.

You look lovely sister. Sansa never warm at least looked genuine. The family and the household were in the yard, awaiting the new Queen. Rickon, Jon, and Daenerys were waiting and smiling. Jon had a frown and his brow was creased in worry Jon walked across the yard to pick his son up. The Queen followed. 

She stepped out of the wheelhouse and only had eyes for Rickon. He stood there, in grey and black, with a fine cloak. He was taller than Jon and sturdier than him, as well. He was more handsome than she remembered. Recently, Jon had returned from Winterfell and had told her how much he reminded him of Robb, the brother that had died so many years ago. He was growing a beard to make him look Northern and older, 

He hugged her in the yard and kissed her hand, whispering, “It has been too long.”  
“I have missed you.”  
“I have missed you.”

“Let me introduce you to the household, the steward, but first, there is something I must tell you.” He took her hand in his and hesitated. 

There was a woman with a baby. She wouldn’t have noticed the woman at all, except Jon had pushed the woman forward. A baby in bright blue and grey. Extravagant colors for a common child. Rickon smiles, as he takes the baby from the woman. A small pretty baby with wispy red hair. She doesn't want to move. He takes the baby gingerly, but with too much practice for a man who had no children in his life. He speaks, smiling “My daughter.”

There was noise in her ears and she couldn't hear him. She remembers asking for her room, quickly before the tears fell, before the rage. She had not left her room since she had come to It. She could hear the arrival of lords and ladies, musicians playing, people laughing. They had brought her to the Lady’s chambers. Rickon’s rooms were on the other side of the door. 

She had dreamed of coming to Winterfell, longed for it, only thinking off Rickon and his easy smile and the red-brown curls. Of trading stags for wolves and a maiden cloak for children, and a home.  
Edric had come to her chambers shortly after their arrival and the scene that she had made.  
“We can leave if you like and return to Storm’s End, my lady.”  
But she would not leave. “I will not leave cousin, but it is kind of you to show me generosity. I will stay here. Remember, I am to be married tomorrow.”

 

Sansa came with wine and bread. She poured Shireen a glass and herself. “Take it. You must be thirsty and hungry. You have not come down to eat with us.”

Shireen looked at her as she drank the wine deeply. “DId you know?”

“No. I am deeply sorry for what my brother has done and he did not tell me or I would have told you. It was discourteous for him to tell you the news in the yard, in front of all.” 

“The child is a girl? She couldn’t be older than a few weeks.”  
“She is a month and some.”  
“Her name?”  
“Sparrow .. Snow. Rickon says that Sparrows are a sign of Spring and prosperity on Skaagos. He named her in memory of Osha, his foster mother.”  
“Sparrow... That is an uncommon name for a child.”  
Sansa smiled gently and handed her a plate with some soft bread, quail, and apples. “Eat, Shireen.”  
“Where is the Mother?”  
“She is gone. A young third or fourth daughter of a Northern lord, who hoped he might make a match with the Lord of Winterfell and the brother of the King. Jon has matched her with a lord in the Reach. She has already been sent and is gone”  
“Did he love her?”  
“I cannot say that because I did not care to ask. Rickon is the youngest and Jon and I have raised him with perhaps too much leniency. We meant it as love because we were so grateful for him to be returned but it has led to intemperance. He is learning still..”  
“I hear he keeps the child in rooms next to his.”

“It is true. He loves her very much and is devoted to her. I offered to take her with me but Rickon will not hear it.”

.  
Rickon came later after the sun had fallen. She could hear the feast below. All his bannermen and lords feasting. 

He looked tired and guilty, like a chastised child. “Shireen, I am sorry.”

“When were you going to tell me? There were months..”

“I know but there was so much going on there was the pestilence and I was so worried about you. then the Princess died and the Queen got sick.”

“I thought you loved me?” 

“I do love you. It was not my intention. I was not thinking…”  
“It will be okay but we must send the child away. Edric would take her to Storm’s End. Jon would take her…”

“No, Shireen.” His voice was loud and firm. “My daughter stays at Winterfell.”

“Absolutely not. Rickon.”

“Listen to me. She is my daughter and she belongs here at Winterfell. We are Starks and all Starks have a place here.” 

“She is not a Stark. She is a Snow.”  
“Shireen, I am not going to bend on this. I would not dishonor you by giving her the name Stark because I realize I acted hasty and without thought. I am sometimes given to passions, quick tempers, strong feeling, You temper me and keep me steady and are my heart’s desire. But she is a sweet baby and I may regret they way she began, but I do not regret her. I will not send her away. I will not send any of our children away, not to be fostered or squires. They will all be here with us, safe.”

She was crying in her anger. “Rickon, why do you keep her in your rooms though. She can sleep in the nursery or with the wet-nurse in her chamber. Why so close? Do you wish to constantly hurt me? To see your dalliance in my chamber? To hear her cries?”

“Osha let me sleep with her up until we got back from Skaagos and even after. It is good to sleep near the children. They know you are near them and keep them safe.”

She starts to cry and yell. He looks at her guiltily and leaves. She thinks of following him and then thinks better of it. She simmers in her rage and hurt all night.  
The wedding is a blur of rage and bitterness. She recites the words she has practiced in her mind, words she thought she might never say. Now she says them, they ring empty and taste like ash. The wedding feast is a simple but merry affair. She drinks too much wine and the room tilts awkwardly. 

The lords call for the bedding. She is lifted up by laughing lords calling back to Rickon how they like what they see. There is laughter and music but it rings false. She hopes no one can see her disappointment. 

The ladies drop him off, naked and laughing. He pushes them out and locks the door to them. He sees her naked on the covers. He walks to her cautiously. “Shireen,” and he climbs on to the bed, speaking playfully. “Are you still angry at me or can I soothe your anger with my kisses?”

“I am still very angry, Rickon and I do not want you to kiss me. I couldn’t stand it.”

“I am sorry again, my lady.” He turns away from her and climbs under the covers. He rests his arms over his face. “Another time.. when you are less angry..”

“Oh no, my lord, you must bed me. They will check the sheets and know that we didn’t.”

“I am the Lord of Winterfell, Warden of the North. No one checks my bed sheets and I don’t give a fuck if they do. This is not Court. There is no one to talk and fewer to listen. I am a Stark and so are you now, This is our home. Rest easy, wife.”  
She rolled over to him and he opened his arms, laying her scarred cheek on his chest. He stroked her head absently. Desire and anger lay coiled in her stomach. He whispers gently to her, “It is good you are here. I have waited for so long to be here with you.”

“Did you love her?”

He exhaled. “I did not. I arrived in Winterfell and many of the Northern Lords came to Winterfell to greet me and swear allegiance. I knew that some of them wished me to have a Northern wife, not a Southron lady. The Lords brought their daughters with them. Larra was one of them. She was sweet and I acted without thinking. I regretted it but she was with child. There were some who wanted me to pass you over and marry her.  
I did not love her but I have always loved you. We arranged a marriage to a Lord in the Reach who needed a second or third wife who wanted an heir and as soon as the baby was born, Sparrow came here with her wet-nurse and Larra went to the Reach.”

She touches his chest lightly. “Rickon, how will we ever get past this?”

“Let me show you.” He whispers roughly as he pushes her into the bed. She lets him bed her but she will not kiss him not on the mouth. She thinks it is a punishment, an act of defiance, a show of her rage. I will not tell him what he means to me. I will not show him tenderness. I will be hard like stone, cold as ice. Ours is the fury. Storm and Steel. He is hurt by the gesture, but he is persistent and playful. So, he kisses the rest of her body. With his touches and his mouth, his wicked words and his deep blue eyes, she feels her body betray her  
He makes her pant and squeal. He comes up to kiss her and she turns away.  
“Look at me,” he commands. She looks up at him, eyes open, trembling.  
“Tell me if you want me to stop,” he says tenderly and she feels him push inside her. “I love you whether you are angry at me or not, Shireen.” She is breathless and begging. It is over quickly and she lays there sleepy and spent. She feels him kiss the crown of her head. “Sleep well, wife.”

She feels him slip out of the bed into the other room and shut the door. A short while later, she hears him singing lullabies gently to his daughter in his room.


	6. Chapter 6

It is six moons past their wedding night. She lies in bed restless. Rickon has never once not come to her bed. He lays down next to her and tells her his heart. He tells her of his dreams and his hope. She sits by him during the day and helps him listen to grievances and run the castle. She won’t let him kiss her still. 

Rickon does things for her every day, He has a glass house rebuilt and grows berries and lilies for her, things to make her smile, things to remind her of the South. On a hunting trip, he found a small fawn abandoned and brought her back to Winterfell. Shireen and Rickon nursed it back to health. Now it sleeps in the Godswood and eats from her hand, like a puppy. He carves her sea animals from wood he finds. He leaves them on his pillow when he leaves her in the night. 

He sometimes will touch her. In the darkness, he will tell her how much he loves her and how dear she is to him. He will ask her gently if she would like him to touch her and she always says yes. He makes her cry out but she will not let him whisper sweet words. He shows her how to touch him. He asks her afterward, “Let me kiss you.” She always turns over.

She wakes in the darkness and he is gone. He always leaves for his own bed. She knows he will stop coming one day. He will just sleep in his room. He will stop caring if she loves him or not, he will be angry she never forgave him. 

He will go. She doesn’t know why she fought so hard and now has so little. She barely even has her rage. Her moon blood is late, almost two moons and she has started to get sick in the morning. She wishes to tell Rickon, to kiss him and feel him fall asleep and stay with her the whole night.  
After he thinks she is sleeping, he gets up and shuts the door that connects their rooms. The household must talk about it. Lady Catelyn and Lord Eddard always slept in the same bed. Of course, Lord Eddard Stark did not want his bastard to sleep in the same room as them. She cringes when she thinks these cruel thoughts because she loves the King and it hurts her to know how ill-treated he was as a child. This tiny girl is Rickon’s true daughter. She remembers cringing when hearing of Lady Catelyn Stark's cruelty. She is no better. What honor is there to hurt a child? 

 

It is dark and chilly. Rickon had built her a fire but it is mostly embers with small dying flame. She hears him singing lullabies for his daughter. Every night, the baby cries and she hears him sing to it. 

She hears him singing a song “A bear, a bear, and a maiden fair..”

She pushes the door open more. He is standing near the window, which is open. His shirt is off and he just has his pants on, no shoes. His hair is curling down his shoulders. The baby is wrapped in a soft thick blanket and she is quiet. He is swaying gently, the moonlight is hitting his shoulders, the tips of his hair, and it softens him. 

He finishes the song and he kisses the baby on her tiny cheek. He speaks to the sleeping child bundled in his arms. “I’m going to go hunting in a few days and one of these days, I will find my pack some direwolves, like my father found for us. They will grow big and strong and protect you and your brothers and sisters, my love. One of these days. I will get you a pony and teach you to ride. One of these days, you will have a brother who will protect and care for you.”

She knows she is conflicted. To see him so gentle and loving with the baby makes her heartache and expand. She doesn’t know if he will shame her again and though she hears her mother’s sharp voice telling her that he will do it again and bring her dishonor. Maybe he will. She doesn't know what the future holds for them but in some way, she knows that them being together in Winterfell, is a miracle to have survived all the death and certain darkness. Sparrow is a miracle and the tiny baby that she hasn’t told him about is a miracle because she knows that they have overcome huge obstacles to be here together. 

She pushes the door open wide and walks in his bedroom with purpose and pushing her doubt down. He sees her, saying “Shireen?”  
It is a question, but he opens his arms to her and she raises up on her toes to kiss him, open-mouthed and hot. The kiss is lingering and she feels her face warm.  
He pulls from her and looks at her, confused but happy. She smiles. “I am tired, my husband. Let’s go to bed. Bring the baby. I want to meet my daughter and I need to tell you some news about our family”. She climbs into the big canopied bed and she smiles. Shireen Stark is finally home.


End file.
